Love is Blind
by Spliced-up-Angel
Summary: "You're always drunk," he smirked. Touché. "It would be a blessing to see you sober, my dear," he was too irresistible. But I still hated him. A/H oneshot.


**Congratulations to Total Drama Lover for coming in second place in my oneshot contest. For their prize, they requested two AleHeather oneshots. So here it is. (this paring is ****amazing!). So, I hope you like it and it was what you were expecting.**

**Love is Blind**

I lifted my glass up to the bartender, yet again. "Another one," I laughed, getting tipsy as always. Fresh out of work. Freshly drunk, as I reached my tenth glass. This old, torn down, nearly destroyed tavern was one hell of a hangout. Everyone loved it here. Maybe it was the small, wooden stools that not only stayed comfortable, but kept stable all these years. Or was it the echoing clap the beer bottles made as they hit the sturdy table after every drink? No, it definitely was the great times, good beer, and righteous limits crossed.

"I think you've had enough," that stubbed man, of whom had a fat beer belly and alcohol stained clothes, replied.

"What do you know?" I snapped. My long, black hair moved against my face, tickling my arms, as I leaned in close. Oh, how I miss that hair. It truly was my life. The way it swayed with my moving body, back and forth, always in sync. How it felt when I ran my long, boney fingers through it. Unlike most hair, it rarely tangled, was never really needed to be brushed, was never frizzy or curly, and it always stayed in place.

I gave him a drunken smirk, giving him a view of the little I was showing. I really miss that body, too. It was so curvy and tall, without a single trace of fat. My skin was always flawless, without a single trace of pimples or red marks; it was just pale and wonderful. Thank God for my low metabolism, or I would've bloated larger and larger... sort of like now.

"You've been here for four hours. Don't you realize you are the only customer here? Besides, you're drunk," he repeated, as he did for what seemed like every night. He then gestured a hand to the wooden door of which a sign that read _Exit_ stood.

On cue, the handsome, irresistible, Latino man walked into the tavern, leaving the bartender proven. I was **not** the only customer. I told myself many times that I hated him. This was not one of those times. I could never prove nor describe to you how happy I was to see him. Why? Well, it meant I could stay longer. Duh.

"Hola, Senorita," he greeted me, as if I knew what the Hell _that_ meant. Goodness, his emerald eyes sent chills down my spine. That breath taking grin. His caramel skin that looked good enough to eat. This man really was a sight to see, I'll tell you. Alas, my days of believing that looks were everything long retired since then.

Anyways, he took the stool beside mine at the bar. "I'll take two _Corona_, lime in each, senor!" he told the bartender. The tender gave me a queer look, then went to get two beers. I really wish I remembered his name. The Latino moved closer, in the seat beside me. I could smell his scent; it was a refreshing, tropical aroma. But I still hated this man.

"Don't think you're getting some just 'cause I'm drunk," I spat.

"You're always drunk," he smirked. Touché. "It would be a blessing to see you sober, my dear," he was too irresistible. But I still hated him. He leaned in even closer I could see the freshly shaven stubble on his cheek. His warm breath burned against my ace, reeling me in, but not enough to stop hating him. "You are looking divine tonight," he whispered, driving me crazy enough to almost reconsider my hatred. His breath smelt of mint, much more appetizing than my booze-breath.

"I-I don't know who you think you are, but-" I was really at a loss for words. My face was burning like fire; I could almost melt. Maybe I was too drunk to make words come out, knowing fully what he was putting me through. He was sick, diluted. I would never let him win.

"Allow me to formally introduce myself," he whispered, "I am Alejandro Burremetro. Yourself?"

"Heather," I said coolly, focusing on my hair so I wouldn't be tempted by those emerald eyes.

"Does she have a last name?" he asked, raising a thin, eyebrow. Those lovely eyebrows.

"Its of no importance," I stubbornly retorted. Alejandro removed the hair that was covering my tiny eyes, and tucked it behind my ear. Just as I was about to object, the bartender laid two _Corona_ in front of us, "gracious, senor."

The drink was so beautiful; my mouth instantly began to water just by looking at it. Cool droplets of dew ran down the dies. I could feel the icy glass from where my hand sat. It was fresh and clearly had just come out of the refrigerator. I couldn't stand it! I picked it up and chugged the whole bottle into my mouth, feeling the cool, thin beverage drain down my throat, like a sink. Not long after, it was chugged down to the last drop. Refreshing. I was starting to feel tipsy again.

"D-don't take it as an indication that I like you," I slurred, "I'm n-not paying for this. I deserve free drinks."

"I would never expect that of a lady, like yourself. It would be cruel to make a lady pay," he said, looking into my eyes, which were now exposed. I would not be hypnotized by this man's inhuman beauty.

I raised an eyebrow, suddenly gaining my conscience back, "A man never says that unless he is expecting something in return." There was no way he was doing this to be nice. It just wasn't in a man's nature.

"Don't say that you are resisting the temptation for Alejandro," his voice was sounding sexier now, as the Latino sat back in his seat. He _was_ as narcissistic as he looked. There were still more drinks left for me before I would consider easing my hatred for this man. "So tell me about yourself, senorita. Do you attend a school? Still live with your family? Are you married? Have children?"

"I'm not into small talk," I replied.

"My, she is definitely as stubborn as I assumed she would be," he mumbled to himself.

Irritated by this man, words spilled out of my mouth like a waterfall. I am pretty sure it was way too much information for a stranger to know, but he was just so easy to speak to. Ugh, it had to be the alcohol talking. "I graduated out of high school ten years ago. My parents kicked me out of the house, after I dropped out of college. I was popular in high school. You know, those cliche cheerleaders who sleep with all the jocks. I'm a virgin, but that's beyond the point. My grades were never the best; I just kind of slid on by. I tried to change myself when it came to college, but that never happened. I was too hooked on partying to focus on my grades. So, why else would I be here? I'm twenty eight, I'm a total mess, I get drunk almost every day, I know this old place like the back of my hand, and I haven't held a decent job in three years. Any questions?" I asked.

He looked at me sympathetically. The worst I need is sympathy. That is the one thing I never deserved. "I don't know what to say," he said, "I'm thirty three, I have a stable job as an architect, I've graduated from university years ago, and I've never had to turn to alcohol. Sure, I had used women in the past, but you really are the one for me. Senorita, please let me help you."

I sighed, not only was he attractive, but he was sweet, smart, had a well-balanced job, and he never drank more than he needed. I no longer hated this stranger. How could I? I sat up in my seat, and lay my head on his shoulder. "You can start by being my boyfriend," I whispered.

I felt Alejandro smile. He put his large hand on my head and stroked my hair. "Of course," he said. I knew that moment that he would be the one I would rely on for a long time. This man had encouraged me to keep going. I made a pact that day that I would give up alcohol and go back to university. He was the only person who offered to help me. I can go as far to say that I loved him after that.

We walked outside of the bar, after he paid the bartender. He walked me home, to that tiny apartment I managed to rent. On the doorstep, I hugged him _goodbye_, but I didn't know how long the _goodbye_ would last. He kissed me on the cheek and walked onto the busy road. There were no signs of cars, so he went to cross. I can't describe what happened next. It was too horrible to even think about. The bright light of the transport truck went by too fast. I remember the empty feeling, where my heart was supposed to be. I was unsure what to do.

~o~

Where am I now? Well, I grew up. I am eighty years old. A retired banker with a garden full of beautiful roses. My hair is thinning and I gained a lot of weight. The memory of Alejandro still haunts me to that day. Sometimes I can hear him whispering to me in the wind, encouraging me to move on and do even greater things. I never married, or had children. My heart forever belongs to that man. I feel a cool, wet liquid run down my cheek. Am I crying? I always do that whenever I remember that winter night.

**So, how was it? I hope you liked it. One oneshot down! Five more to go! Let's do this! Woo!**


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